


The Adventures of Prezleek and The Pirate's Treasure

by Chaos_Elemental



Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Alla being salty for 3289404398690 years, Gen, Pirate adventures, Riddles, Sea Shanty II, Treasure Hunt, just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaos_Elemental/pseuds/Chaos_Elemental
Summary: Prez finds a treasure map and drags a less-than-amused Alla on a buccaneer adventure. Featuring riddles, traps, ancient maps, jury-rigged puzzle solutions, vulgar exotic birds, and excessive yak-on-door violence.
Kudos: 8





	The Adventures of Prezleek and The Pirate's Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for the very excellent [Prezleek!](https://twitter.com/ThePreztle) (Go read her comics they're awesome)

“No. Absolutely not.”

Alla had her arms crossed as she stared Prez down. This, paired with the furrowed eyebrows, thinned mouth, tapping foot, and Glare That Could Possibly Disintegrate Araxxor probably put her at 8/10 on the Angry Scale, Prez conceded.

Nonetheless, he grinned. “Think about it!” he said, spreading his arms wide. “The adventure! The intrigue! The sights!” He paused, grinning wider. “And the massive rewards! Alla, there’s probably some huge treasure hoard on some dinky little island, just waiting to be plundered!”

Alla blinked twice, pushing the scale up by about half a point. “Prez,” she said carefully. “Do you know what happened the last time we went on a pirate adventure?”

Prez tapped his chin. “We got a new resource dungeon and a dungeoneering level, I think…”

“ _My garden blew up_ , you dummy!” Alla snapped. “Do you know how long it took to rebuild the gazebo? There were brains spattered on the chapel window for _weeks_!”

“Besides,” she continued, glancing down at the crumbled map resting on the kitchen table. “How is this any different from doing clue scrolls? Don’t you have 70-something unfinished ones sitting in your bank?”

Prez rolled his eyes. “67,” he said. “And clue scrolls get all the same! They’re all slide puzzles, doing those weird rune knot things, wandering around Neitiznot with a glowy orb, or dancing half-naked in the middle of the Haunted Forest. It’s not a _real_ treasure hunt!”

“Where did you get this thing, anyways?” Alla said, looking at the map again. It vaguely resembled some region of the Wushanko Isles, though it was so faded and so scrawled over with notes that she could barely make out where exactly it could be. “A monster drop? Was it hidden in a chest buried under a dragon’s lair?”

“Nope!” Prez said. “I got it from a guy at the GE.”

At that point, Alla turned a rather vibrant shade of red, which Prez hadn’t seen her do before. Which meant that her anger levels were off the scale. 

“You. Did. What?” she said, very quietly. 

Prez chuckled nervously. “I know, I know, it sounds like a scam, and I thought it was! But the guy was really convincing. He was talking about he got it from this weird crab thing he fought around Daemonheim, right, and the only thing it dropped were some weird relics and this thing, and that he thinks it might have something to do with the lost pirate One-Legged Phineas, and that he hid his bounty somewhere north of Morytania, and he’d go but apparently he isn’t levelled enough to open a port mmmfffft—”

“Prez,” Alla said, keeping her hand over the adventurer’s mouth despite his muffled protests, “you absolutely have to be kidding me right now.”

Prez pulled her hand away. “It really did sound legitimate!” he retorted. “Look, he didn’t even charge me anything for it. Or offer to teleport me to Camelot! If he’s a scammer, he’s a pretty cruddy one.”

He then gave Alla an imploring look, his brown eyes sparkling with innocent extreatment. “Pleeeeeease can we check it out?”

“No.”

“Pleaaaase?”

“No!"

“Pretty please?’ he implored. "I promise to stick to clue scrolls after this! It’s just too exciting to pass up! We haven’t gone on any new adventures since that thing on Anachronia, and I promise I won’t make Jas angry this —”

“I said no!”

Prez thought for a moment. “If you go,” he said, “I’ll actually take the time to learn Vorago.”

Alla considered this. “Including the _right_ time to maul?”

“Swear on Guthix.”

Alla sighed. “Alright,” she said. “Fine.” 

She paused. “But if my house gets invaded by Crassians, you’re picking the shell out of the woodwork!”

* * *

“Alright,” Prez said, scrutinising the crumbled old map for the umpteenth time. “I’m _sure_ this turn is the correct one.”

Alla paused mid-swing of her machete. “Oh. And what makes you say that?”

“That tree over there looks new.”

“It looks the same as every other tree!”

“No, look, its branches do a weird thing like —”

“Give me that!”

The dense overgrowth of the Kharazi jungle didn’t allow for much reading light, and the perpetual dampness, bugs, heat, and attacks from wild oomlie birds didn’t help Alla’s temper one modicum. The two hours spent traveling in endless circles, however, was the capstone to an archway of frustration. 

“Look,” Prez said, peering over her shoulder. “See the little trail marked _there?_ It curves around the holy spring and then goes clockwise by that weird rock…”

Alla squinted. “Are you sure that isn’t just a tea stain?”

“At least sixty percent sure,” Prez said. “Here, you’re holding it upside down…”

“What are we even _looking_ for?” Alla groaned. “That stupid poem made no sense!”

“It made perfect sense!” Prez protested. “All we need to do is _Seek my old scarlet beast/erstwhile wit and sharpness on its neb/watch your fingers once unleashed/_ something something I can’t write all that curvy writing _bread._ ”

Alla rolled her eyes. “Do we even _have_ any bread?”

Prez searched his inventory. “No, but we have a wooden leg, a tin of sardines, a handful of weird hairy moss, some old potato sacking, a lot of yak hair, aaaaand…” — he dug around further — “a coconut.”

Alla looked up from the map. “I can understand the yak hair, but where the heck did you get all that other stuff?”

“Oh, it’s easy. I did a farming run before I got here, the sardines are for if I’m hungry, and all the other stuff I found on the trail.”

“Why did you pick those up, then?”

“I figured I could sell it on the GE.”

Alla sighed again. “Figures.” She put down the map and began to hack away at the forest once more. “Who was this One-Eyed Phil guy anyways?”

“One-Legged Phineas,” Prez corrected. “He was a pirate on Rabid Jack’s crew. The fellow who gave me the map said he broke off to hide his massive piles of treasure, right before he disappeared.”

“And how convenient there was a map left behind,” Alla said. “that some random dude in Varrock happened to have.”

“Phineas had a parrot, apparently,” Prez continued. “An ancient one. Swore quite a lot.”

“Mhmm,” Alla said, viciously swinging the machete. “And I’m sure that information will be _highly_ valuable to us in the near fut—” she paused, her eyes wide. 

The layer of jungle she’d hacked away turned out to be the last one; now the two adventurers stood before a clearing, small and bright, containing nothing but a healthy layer of thick jungle grass, and a T-shaped piece of wood, driven into the ground. And on the wood —

“Make a lobster kettle with the barmaid!” the parrot squawked. “Blow the grounsils and take a flyer!”

“Huh,” Alla said, sheathing the machete to her toolbelt. “I take that back.”“The parrot’s probably got the next clue,” Prez said. He stepped forward, holding his hand out. “Hey there, buddy. Who’s a pretty boYEEEOWCH!”

Prez stepped back, sucking on his bitten finger. The parrot chuckled. 

“Go boff yerself, ya landlubber!” the parrot screeched. “Skinny Malinky long legs! Kry jou poote af!”

It paused. “Gratis harnas vergulden.”

Alla pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fantastic. What now? Bodily threats?”

“I’m not going to harm an innocent bird!” Prez protested. “Maybe what it’s saying has a hint to it.”

He turned to the bird. “Where’s the treasure of One-Legged Phineas?”

The parrot bristled. “#@$%*&!” it screamed. 

“I think we hit a nerve,” Prez said. “What’s our Plan B?”

“Going home?”

“Not an option.” He crossed his arms and stared straight ahead, tapping his foot on the jungle floor. “And since we don’t have anything to feed it with….”

A minute later, he snapped his fingers. “Got it!” 

“What did you think of?”

Prez dug around in his bag. “Hold this,” he said, shoving the potato sacking into Alla’s arms. “I take the coconut here, and add the moss…. A bit of rope, then some yak hair, right…”

Alla watched, agape. A moment later, Prez stood up, holding a rather scarecrow-like... _thing_ in his hands.

“Is that supposed to be someone?” Alla said.

“Can’t you tell?” Prez gestured to the prosthetic sticking out under the stuffed sacking. “It’s One-Legged Phineas!”

Alla blinked. “Prez, it looks like you shoved some tree moss on a coconut, tied it to some potato sacking, and stuck a wooden leg in it!”

Prez looked the figure over. “You have a point,” he admitted. “Do you think I should have added more hair?”

“Uuuuugh!” Alla groaned. “Look, this thing is never going to work!”

“Why don’t you give it a try, then?”

“Fine!” She grabbed the dummy and marched towards the parrot. “Arrgh, arrgh, matey,” she said. “Tis I, One-Armed Philbert —”

“One-Legged Phineas.”

“One-Legged Phineas,” Alla said. “Um. Who is — who _be_ a good birdy?”

The bird didn’t reply, watching the dummy with beady little eyes. And then:

“Spiffing, old chap!” it squawked. “Are you in pursuance of our concealed valuables?”

“Um,” Alla said. “Yes? I mean, aye?”

“Splendid!” The parrot flapped its wings. “Look no further than the coordinates 00 degrees 31 minutes south, 17 degrees 43 minutes east. Happy hunting, old bean!”

With that, the parrot took off, leaving behind the empty perch.

Alla stared at it. “I didn’t think that would actually work….”

“One-Legged Phineas had a funny sense of humour, I guess,” Prez said, doing his best to conceal his grin. “On to the next thing?”

“Sure,” Alla said. “As long as this one doesn’t involve any more damn parrots.”

* * *

“Why do you even _like_ these things?” Alla griped, as she fiddled with the sextant. “It just feels like treasure trails with unnecessary extra steps.”

The two were near Mudskipper Point now, trying to hone in on the exact location of the parrot’s coordinates. Alla’s temper had somewhat improved since the Kharazi, though she still retained a patina of annoyance. 

Prez shook his head. “It’s not as simple as just doing a silly dance in the middle of the Fishing Guild. You have to be _creative._ Remember when we had to figure out how to smuggle that rum out of Musa Point? Or when we had to break out of The Rock with nothing but a seagull and an accordion?”

 _“You forgot me in that stupid prison for four bloody hours!”_ Alla fumed. “I smelled like rotten fish stew the whole time, and I don’t think I can look at a seagull straight in the eye ever again!

“It was an accident!” Prez protested. “And it’s still miles better than those stupid puzzle boxes.”

“For what? Treasure? Do you know where you can get treasure? Big fat piles of it?”

“Don’t say killing Telos.”

“K—” Alla closed her mouth, then opened it again. 

“I was going to say —”

“Not ED3 either.”

Alla closed her mouth again. “How about we just agree to disagree?”

“Fine by me.” Prez glanced at the compass in his hand. “I think this is the spot.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Look down.”

Alla did. There was a large X on the ground, painted messily over the grass.

“Rather stable stuff,” she noted, as Prez pulled out a shovel, “for it to last that long.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of pirate magic,” Prez said, cutting through the turf. “Help me dig, will you?”

Alla grabbed a spade from her pack and joined him. The two dug without speaking, the silence only punctuated by the sounds of their shovels, the infrequent cries of the gulls, and the occasional, echoing _BOOM_ of someone hurling a vial of fishing explosive.

“You know,” Alla said after a measure, “this is a rather short treasure map, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t it odd we’re getting the treasure after only one step? And this seems like a rather innocuous place to put a massive treasure hoard?”

“Maybe One-Legged Phineas was a simple guy,” Prez said. “And it could be a small treasure with a lot of value. It could be a shadow dye. Or a lot of banknotes. Maybe a bond or —”

 _Clunk._ The shovel hit something hard. The duo looked down. 

“Or a skull,” Prez said, pulling the object free. “Huh. I guess the guy invested in Vecnas and didn’t account for the price crash…”

Suddenly, the skull’s eyes began to glow. Prez let go of it with a yelp, and Alla caught it before it hit the ground. 

“Arrr, ye scurvy dogs!” the skull said, its voice crackling and tinny. “If to find my treasure, ye willing be, then ye must answer my riddles three!”

Alla blinked. “Did that make any grammatical sense?”

“Shush!” Prez said, his eyes glimmering, “It’s how they talked back then. Ok, what’s the first riddle? Something about a three-legged man?

The skull cackled. “A pirate can place eight large boxes or 10 small boxes into a crate fer shippin’. In one shipment, he sent a total of 96 boxes. If there be more large boxes than small boxes, how many crates did he ship?”

Prez tapped his foot. “Wait, wait, I’ve got this…” he grabbed a stick and began scratching out sums on the floor. “If he’s got ninety six, more large than small… then the remainder…”

“Isn’t that more maths than a riddle?” Alla said. 

“I’ve almost got it,” Prez said. “Uuuuuh... 11 total crates?”

“Correct!” the skull said. “Now… If maple logs dropped by an index of 50% over the past three years, starting at a price of 600 gp, what be the compound annual growth rate?”

At the point, Alla snapped. “Give me that!” she said, grabbing the skull from Prez’s hands. 

“I was about to solve the riddle!” Prez protested. Alla shook her head. 

“You got to do your solution for the last one. Now I’ll do mine.” She violently shook the skull. 

“Where’s the money?!” she shouted. “Spit it out!”

The skull didn’t reply. Alla gave it another shake; as she did, something rattled, and then fell out of the skull onto the ground. 

“Wrong answer!” the thing in the grass said. “Try again!” 

Alla picked it up. “It’s a commorb,” she said. “Looks like it has the Talking perk on it.”

“Did you remember to carry the one?” the orb said. 

“Here, I can probably disassemble it and find out what the right answer is,” Alla said, pulling out her invention toolbelt. “Shouldn’t take me more than a minute…” 

“Oh. Alright.” Prez crossed his legs and sat down, looking on dejectedly.

“Why the long face?” Alla asked, as she began to tinker. “We’re on our way to the next step.”

“Ah, I just thought it would be more… piratey. You know?” he said. “Undead skulls, weird enchantments, caves full of wonders….”

Alla was about to comment that a mystic talking orb wasn’t anything to sneeze at, but she decided to withhold this. Instead she said:

“I mean, it was pretty impressive that you solved that first riddle.” 

“Really?” Prez looked up. 

“Yeah! And, well, pirates are all about maths,” she said. “You know, counting treasure, shipping things, all that.”

“You are right, I suppose…”

“I’m _sure_ the next puzzle will be plenty piratey,” Alla said. “We’ll probably need to fight a horde of zombie buccaneers, or something.”

Something clicked in the orb. The sound of radio static came out, followed by:

“Congratulations! Three million, eight hundred thousand, five hundred seventy six and forty one fifty-eights WAS the answer!” it crackled. “For your next step, go to Dragontooth Isle and find the tallest tree there.”

Alla leapt to her feet, reaching out to Prez. “Well, what are we waiting for?” she said. “Onto the next adventure?”

Prez took her outstretched hand. “Gladly!”

* * *

Prez and Alla looked at the tree before them. It was a rather nice tree — plenty leafy. Good strong branches. Nice rough bark. If there were a contest for exemplary trees, it would probably win it. 

It was a shame, therefore, that there was a big red lever stuck into it. The sign that said ‘Plz pull’ didn’t make it much better. 

Prez smiled weakly. “Maybe it’s a magic pirate lever?” he said. 

“One that’ll probably teleport us to the Wilderness,” Alla said. “Are you sure it’s the right tree?”

“Quite.” Prez looked up. “There’s nothing else like it.”

He sighed. “Only one way to test it…” he began taking off his equipment, piece by piece. “Here, hold my stuff.”

“What?!” Alla said. “But… you’ll get mugged! Or the Chaos Elemental might turn you into a bowl of soup!”

“You know I’ll just respawn if I die!” he said, shoving his helm into her arms. “Besides, it’s better than you or Baroo testing it out.”

Boldly, he stepped forward. “Alright,” he said. “Here goes…”

Reaching out, he pulled the lever. 

Nothing interesting happened. 

“Huh,” he said. “Maybe it’s broken —”

He was cut off in an instant, when the turf below him swung inward, revealing a trapdoor. Prez yeled, managing to leap to the side before he fell down, and he tumbled over the grass and landed next to Alla. 

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his backside. “I wasn’t expecting _that…_ ” 

Alla peered over the side. “There’s no spikes on the bottom, at least,” she said. “Here, there’s a ladder on the side.”

Once Prez was sufficiently re-equipped, the two descended. 

“I had no idea there were any sea-caves below Dragontooth,” Prez said. “Do you think they were used for smuggling things?” 

“Could be.” Alla felt her feet touch water, and recoiled. “Yech. They’re a bit flooded. We should probably get going before the tide rises…” 

The two hit the ground with a faith splash. The freezing water came up to their ankles; as Alla lit a bullseye lantern, both could see rivulets of brine trickle down the glistening cave walls. A tunnel led further from where they were standing, concealed by darkness. 

“Well,” Prez said. “Only one way forward.”

The two sloshed forward in silence. Now and again there would be a sound off in the distance — a far-off splash, or the roar of a wave on the surface — and they would pause, waiting, before moving forward again. 

All the while, the water kept steadily rising. Ten minutes in, and it was up to their shins, and Alla’s teeth began to chatter. 

“M-m-m-maybe we s-should go back…” she muttered. “I- Wait. I think there’s s-s-something ahead!”

Prez charged forward, sending up a spray of water. “Look!” he said. “I think it’s a door!”

It was, indeed, a door; an iron one, befitting a castle, or perhaps a prison. It was encrusted with rust and the odd barnacle, slick with damp — and behind it, resting on a roughly-carved stone pedestal, lay a rotting wooden chest, kept closed by a single padlock.

“Well,” Alla said, sloshing up beside him. “The prize is within reach. How do we get in?”

Prez rattled the door. “It’s locked,” he said. He glanced down the rising water, now up to his knees. “And I don’t think I’ll have time to pick it…”

Alla stepped closed to the door. As she did, she felt something metallic _clink_ under her foot. Puzzled, she reached under the water, pulling up a rusty iron key. 

“I guess there’s our solution,” she said. “Here, it looks like it matches the lock.”

Prez took the key and jammed it into the doorway, giving it a turn. It rattled but otherwise didn’t move. “Nope.”

“That’s odd,” Alla said, raising an eyebrow. “If there’s a key…”

Something metallic _clink_ ed under her foot again. Intrigued, she reached under…

And pulled up a second key. And a third. And a fourth. All rusty. All iron. And all with different teeth.

“Is this entire floor…?” she muttered. Prez plunged his hand under the water, and pulled it back up, holding a fistful of keys. 

“Well,” he said. “I guess the best way is to keep trying…”

The next several minutes were filled with the sound of the lock unsuccessfully rattling, and the sound of key after rejected key landing back into the water with a sad _plop_. With every minute, the water rose higher, until it was up to their thighs. 

“We don’t have time for this!” Alla said, tossing another key away. “There are too many keys — if we stay any longer, we’ll drown!”

Prez tossed away another key. “We’re so close!” he said. “There’s got to be another way…”

He paused. “Wait.”

Seizing his bag, he began rummaging around, tossing things to and fro. “Shark, shark, overload… aha!”

Prez pulled out a peculiar-looking bag from his backpack, and stepped back. “Come on out, buddy!”

Before Alla could say a word, Prez tore the summoning pouch in two. 

_“BAROOOOOOO!”_ The small cavern was filled with both the sound of bellowing and the overpowering scent of wet yak as Baroo materialized, splashing down into the water. 

Baroo shook himself, coating the two adventurers with a fine layer of damp yak hair. “ _Baroo baroo_ ,” he mooed miserably. 

“Sorry, big guy,” Prez apologized, patting him on the back. “I know you hate getting wet, but I need a favor.”

He pointed to the door. “See that?”

Baroo nodded. “ _Baroo_!”

“Can you take it down?”

Baroo snorted. “ _Barooo_!”

“That’s what I liked to hear!” Prez stepped away again, giving the yak space. Baroo pawed the ground, the splash of his hoof echoing throughout the cavern. He leaned back, and….

“ _BAROOOOO_ !” The yak launched himself forward, careening towards the door like a bovine bullet. With a heavy _WHAM_ , his horns tore through iron bars like they were made of tin, ripping them clear from the rock face. 

Baroo shook his head, dislodging the ruined door from his horns. “ _Baroo_ ,” he said. 

“Good boy!” Prez cried, giving the yak’s back a rub. “When we get home, you’re getting extra hay!”

“ _Baroo_?”

“Ok, apples too. For putting up with the wet.”

“ _Baroo_!” 

Alla coughed quietly. “This is great and all,” she said. “But we should get going. 

Prez looked down at the now chest-high water. “Point taken!”

He grabbed the chest, now half-floating on the rising tide. “Got a teleport?”

“Always.” She grabbed his wrist. “Isn’t that thing a little light?”

“Talk later! Let’s go!”

She nodded, and snapped her fingers. The adventurers (and their yak) disappeared, leaving behind nothing but the water and the shredded remains of a once-mighty door. 

* * *

The trio landed in the middle of Alla’s garden with a wet plop, Prez still clinging tightly to the chest. He groaned and sat up. 

Alla sat up beside him, wringing the seawater out of her dress. “You know,” she said, trying to hide a smile. “That solution you came up with…”

“Don’t say it,” Prez threatened. “That was _completely_ conventional. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made the door removable by force of yak.” 

He looked down at the chest in his hands. “If anything, we did get this, at least…”

“Want to do the honours?” Alla said, handing him a hammer. Prez took it and, with careful precision, smashed the lock off the chest.

Slowly, with shaking hands, he opened the lid….

“Huh,” he said, pulling out the bit of paper inside. “I guess there’s another step…”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Alla said. “What does it read?”

Prez cleared his throat. 

“ _Your pirate journey comes to an end, and the mighty treasure is at hand_

_The final step now, if you’re brave enough….”_

He paused. Alla looked to him. “What is it?” she said. “What’s the final step?”

Prez sighed. _“Go to Level 47 Wilderness with your most valuable stuff.”_

Alla’s heart sank. “Oh, Prez…”

“It’s ok,” he said, managing a small smile. “I mean, I should have known, right? Some guy giving it away at the GE… it was too good to be true, right?”

Alla shook her head. “No.”

Prez looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she paused. “The treasure would have been really cool, right? But we also got to do some interesting puzzles. And we found an undersea cave…”

“I shouldn’t have dragged you along for all that,” Prez said. “All that fuss for nothing.”

“...to be honest?” Alla said. “I kind of had fun.”

“Really?”

“Not _too_ much fun,” she corrected. “But… if you happen to find another ancient treasure map from a long-lost cursed pirate… I’ll be right with you. Vorago or no.”

Prez grinned. “Thanks, Alla. That means a lot…”

Alla then thought for a moment. “What was the guy — the one who gave the map — wearing, by the way?”

Prez shrugged. “Oh, the usual. Masterwork armour. Grace of the Elves. He even had a Santa hat…”

“Hmmmm…” Alla tapped her chin. “I think I might have an idea…”

* * *

Patchwork997 wasn’t a man of much imagination. Perhaps he’d been a little _too_ overexcited when the nice fellow at the east Varrock bank offered him a bona-fide treasure map for a cool 1m, only to find the bastard had already looted it out by the time he’d waded beneath Dragontooth Isle. 

This probably justified what he was about to do, then. Going through all that work resetting the puzzles, tracking down the damn parrot, and leaving the note in the chest _definitely_ justified it, in fact. The stupid idiot he’d passed the map to didn’t look like he was particularly loaded, but there might be an alchemical onyx or two in his bank…

He readjusted his grip on his khopesh. He’d already sniped a couple of idiots near the Edgeville lever teleport. His target should show up soon. 

Out of the corner of his eye, something scarlet flickered. 

He turned. The dark, scorched landscape of the Wilderness stared back at him.

He sighed. _You’re just being paranoid,_ he thought. _One fool with a prayer cape isn’t about to be smart enough for an ambush…_

** Alla has the Hellfire bow in level 47 north-east Wilderness! **

Patchwork997 looked up, just in time to see a blazing inferno roaring towards him.

“SHI—!”

* * *

Alla dusted off the Santa hat. “Sorry about the ash,” she said. “It’s a bit hard to avoid with the bow.”

“It’s no trouble,” Prez said, trying it on. “Between the armor, the necklace, this, and his coin purse, we made off pretty well, I think.”

“I’d say,” Alla said. “Totally worth the puzzles for a few billion gp. And the look on his face…”

“What was that like?”

“Oh,” Alla grinned. “Absolutely priceless.”


End file.
